


Conviction

by Elasmosaurus



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Dark Hubert, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Church Route, Horse fluff, Lovers To Enemies, M/M, Religious Guilt, Silver Snow Lord Ferdinand, Silver Snow Route, can't believe I nearly forgot that one oops, ferdie i am so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:28:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29205123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elasmosaurus/pseuds/Elasmosaurus
Summary: Ferdinand learns about love, betrayal, and loyalty on the day Edelgard declares war against the church.His bed is empty when he wakes.It does not does not stop him beaming at the space where his lover once was. Ferdinand rolls over and buries his face in the pillows, stroking the sheets where Hubert lay. His entire body buzzes and he feels…different. More complete. Ferdinand’s skin is positively glowing where it catches the sunlight.Inspired by Diddly'sSilver Snow Lord Ferdinandidea.For Ferdinand Week Day Five: Alternative Universe
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra, Ferdinand von Aegir/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 11
Kudos: 37
Collections: Ferdinand Week 2021





	Conviction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [diddlydang](https://archiveofourown.org/users/diddlydang/gifts).



> Another case of "El got inspired by some cool artwork". Based on Diddly's idea of Ferdinand being the [Lord](https://twitter.com/Diddlydang1/status/1353272881329762305?s=20) for the SIlver Snow route. The idea really grabbed me and I had to write something for it! Ferdievain won her poll as the ship for the AU, so I just followed orders.  
> Diddly's Ferdinand artwork is fantastic, please go check it out!
> 
> Massive thanks to [Silkette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silkette) and [Rainbow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainbow_Volcano) for giving this a quick once over at v little notice.
> 
> I listened to Aiden's "The Sky is Falling", "Soft Skeletons" by Anberlin and "Home" by Daughter whilst writing this if you want some mood music.
> 
> Full list of CWs (a lot of these are more brief mentions or blink and you'll miss it / me being overcautious than anything else but I'd rather mention everything that could possibly come up):  
> Hubert-Typical Violence / Blood / Scars  
> Some suggestive themes  
> Dark Hubert is a dick™️  
> Religious Guilt  
> Complicated feelings re. sexuality related to Religious Guilt and canon-typical homophobia / expectations of men  
> Ferdie does a whole speech about Edie being a tyrant  
> Heartbreak / Lovers to enemies  
> Suicidal ideation  
> Hubert and Ferdie reference killing each other

His bed is empty when he wakes.

It does not stop him beaming at the space where his lover once was. Ferdinand rolls over and buries his face in the pillows, stroking the sheets where Hubert lay. His entire body buzzes and he feels…different. More complete. Ferdinand’s skin is positively _glowing_ where it catches the sunlight. Is this a side effect? Will people know what he did last night from looking at him?

And goddess, what a night it was.

Merely remembering what had passed brings heat to his face and his gut, but more than anything he feels...wonderful. A little sore, Ferdinand concedes, but with each inhale the calming lavender and cedar wood scent eases the ache.

Ferdinand finds the smell intoxicating. It makes his mind reel, fogged over in a haze of mixed emotions dominated by undeniable desire and more fondness towards Hubert von Vestra than he thought himself capable of. He feels elated — if he tried to stand, his legs surely would not support him.

Gosh, he must look like a lovestruck fool!

Yet Ferdinand cannot contain it. He had been half sure Hubert intended to kill him when he opened his door to find that ominous silhouette looming over him. The look on Hubert's face had certainly been murderous, a visceral anger that burnt into Ferdinand's very being, demanding his full attention despite the state of the man. It will be forever etched in his mind.

_A month after Hubert’s disappearance, Ferdinand awakens to the sound of rapid knocking on his door in the middle of the night. He opens it to find Hubert standing there, unannounced. The blue black circles under his eyes are so dark, it looks as if he has not slept in years. The sight of blood sprayed across his face as Hubert leans over Ferdinand, forcing him to crane his neck to meet the mage’s eyes, sends Ferdinand’s heart aflutter. The acrid tang of dark magic clings to Hubert. The air feels positively charged with energy._

_Hubert pushes past him into the room, uninvited. Ferdinand gasps in protest, but Hubert merely hovers in the middle, seeming somewhat unsure of himself. This is unusual, Hubert is always so certain in his actions, but Ferdinand pays it no mind. The man has no business storming into his bedchamber!_

_Ferdinand protests vehemently, keeping his voice low to maintain civility for the sake of his neighbours_ only. _Yet instead of cutting him off or making a snide comment to shut him up, Hubert fists his hands in Ferdinand's nightshirt and shoves him against the wall. The force of it knocks both the breath and the sense out of him. It stirs something deep within Ferdinand that ignites into passion when their lips collide, hard and desperate and_ wanting.

_They collapse in a tangle of limbs on the bed, entwine themselves between the sheets, and murmur affections against each other's lips. Ferdinand feels vulnerable afterwards, every raw nerve ending shot and exposed. When Hubert stands, Ferdinand grabs his wrist with a whine to prevent the older man leaving. Hubert chastises him softly._

_"Shhh, Ferdinand. I must fetch something, is all," he murmurs, brushing a lock of marigold hair out of Ferdinand's eyes._

_He rifles through his robe pockets, returning with a vial of lavender oil, much to Ferdinand’s surprise. He had never noticed Hubert smelling of_ lavender _before. Ferdinand looks up at Hubert, confusion furrowing his brow._

_"Surely you of all people know this stuff helps you sleep? Don't you and Gloucester prattle on about anything other than horses, tea and flowers?" Hubert sighs, rubbing above his left eye with a grimace. "Tell anyone about this and I'll gut you like a fish, von Aegir."_

_"But you do not—"_

_"I bathe in the mornings to remove the smell." Hubert cuts him off and wraps his arms tightly around Ferdinand, pulling him close. He looks deathly pale contrasted against the golden tones of Ferdinand's skin. Only the steady thump of Hubert's slow heartbeat in his ear, the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, reassures Ferdinand he is alive._

_"Sharing so openly, you must intend to end my life while I slumber," Ferdinand mumbles sleepily, finding his eyes too heavy to keep open. He is so happy he does not care if Hubert kills him. Although, he is convinced the man wouldn't after what they just shared._

_Hubert chuckles darkly somewhere above him, burying his face in Ferdinand's hair. "Not tonight. I'd rather not have to at all." He reaches down to tilt Ferdinand's chin up so their lips meet again. "Goodnight, Ferdinand. It will be a new world in the morning."_

What on earth does he mean? _Ferdinand wonders. Alas, his mind is too addled by sleep to give it much thought for now. The last thing Ferdinand feels before sleep claims him is a final press of those lips to his forehead and a squeeze of their interwoven fingers._

Hubert von Vestra, Edelgard's lap dog, came to _him_ when he had a problem.

He forgot to ask the man where he had been for the past month, but at the time Ferdinand had been concerned with more important things. Such as being cherished, and cherishing in return. Becoming a man. Ferdinand sighs wistfully.

The seeds of antagonism sowed between them at the beginning of the year had taken root and blossomed into the beginning of a relationship instead. They had not yet talked about it, but after the events that transpired the previous evening they were of course courting now!

Ferdinand exhales, pulling the sheets tighter around himself to better remember Hubert’s strong embrace.

Riding this morning was out of the question. Rocinante still needed grooming and feeding, however. Plus, Ferdinand had to share the news with _someone._ Pulling on his breeches and a cotton over shirt, Ferdinand departs his room for the stables.

~~~

"Settle cuore mio, be good for me girl," Ferdinand purrs to Rocinante, running a hand down her face as he nuzzles into her neck just behind her cheek.

She pushes him away with her nose, snorting.

With slow, exaggerated movements so he doesn't startle her, Ferdinand throws his arms wide before clasping his hands to his heart. "You wound me, mia amata. Come now, I beg your forgiveness and you simply must accept!"

RoRo tosses her head and stares at him for a long second. Ferdinand cocks his head and pouts, his expression forlorn, until his wonderful mare walks over and nuzzles against him. His fingers immediately gravitate to scratch at her withers.

"Thank you, RoRo. I have so much to tell you! You will never guess what happened last night, I—” He pauses, trying to find the words to express himself.

Something grips inside his chest, coiling around his heart and squeezing so hard Ferdinand feels it might burst. He could explode from the need to convey everything contained within him, the emotions brimming under his skin until they threaten to overspill everywhere. He longs to shout it to the world. To whisper it in Rocinante's ears while he works the curry comb in circles to remove the mud and grease from her coat.

Hubert would prefer his discretion.

It is obvious. Hubert has always been one to operate from the shadows, shrouding the details of both his activities in service of Edelgard and his own life in a secrecy Ferdinand is certain he has killed for. Difficult as it will be for him to keep quiet about his love affair, he would much rather repeat the previous night’s events than be gutted.

He sighs, releasing the urgency to loose his lips and tell all his lover’s secrets. He must find some patience, for surely Hubert would not make him stay silent forever. And when he has permission to share, _then_ he can sing it from the rooftops for all to hear.

“I had the most wonderful time, and I know what grew last night is just a sapling that will develop into more as I shower it with praises and nourish it with adoration,” he whispers. “If only everyone could see my lover as I do now. Oh, when I am able the whole world will know of my happiness, and of their wonderful nature. For now though, I must be content only feeding you these scraps, as I fear to say more might give them away.”

Ferdinand smiles fondly at the thought of both his loves. “Ah! Cuore mio, you are such a good friend. Here, I brought you a treat! Well, it is a treat for both of us I suppose.” Ferdinand swaps the curry comb for the soft, fine bristles of the body brush and removes the apple from his pocket. He sets to work brushing her coat with soft flicks of his wrist while he eats his half of the apple, indulging in the ignoble practice of talking with his mouth full in the empty stables.

His father is far away in Aegir territory, Lorenz and Constance aren’t here to see him, and neither are any of their classmates; he can get away with it just this once. And it seems to invigorate Rocinante when they do things they aren’t supposed to— like the time they snuck out for a midnight ride when he was 15, or when they cantered through the immaculate lawn on his father’s Enbarr estate, kicking up dirt everywhere — her ears prick forwards, her eyes gleam, and she flicks her tail at him, occasionally joining in with a nicker or a whinny.

Ferdinand finishes grooming her body and moves to her face, offering her the remaining half of the apple. “No one will ever replace you in my heart, mia amata, you know that, hmm?” He says, voice quiet and low with his forehead pressed against hers. She chomps loudly on her treat, the noise drowning out the sound of footsteps so they both startle when they hear a voice from behind them.

“Hey Sienna, he spoils her too much, ya hear? We’ve got something more than that. You don’t need presents, pampering, and food bribery to love me, do you sweetheart?”

Amaymon, Byleth’s gigantic black stallion, would’ve tried to bite Sylvain for his attitude by now. RoRo would’ve sulked in the corner. Sienna merely sighs. From what Ferdinand has seen of her, Sienna is a reliable steed of endless patience but even she is clearly fed up with Sylvain’s antics today.

“Okay girl, I hear you,” Sylvain chuckles. Producing a dagger from thin air, he cuts the apple in his hand into quarters, offering the first to Amaymon, the second to Felix’s horse— a white gelding with black, splotchy markings called Zoltan (Fraldarius was so unoriginal with names, Ferdinand remarked upon learning it)— and the last two to his own bay mare, her chocolate brown coat a similar shade to her owner’s eyes.

“Where on earth did that come from!?”

Sylvain grins, changing his rich baritone to more closely mimic Felix’s tenor. “Sylvain, you need to take your training more seriously, idiot. What would you do if someone slipped past your lance?” He drops back to his usual register. “As if I don’t know how to look after myself.” A dark look crosses his face, clearly recalling past bloodshed. He shakes both his head and the short blade at Ferdinand. “It was his idea. Don’t tell him I listened.”

Ferdinand laughs. “Of course, your secret is safe with me! Felix _is_ right, however. Your work ethic is lacking. You do not train as much as is necessary to properly protect your people. You do not try hard enough, Sylvain, and you are always off philandering everywhere.”

Sienna turns her head to fix Sylvain with a pointed look and he chuckles at her again. “Don’t tell me you agree?” He murmurs to Sienna, who seems to nod. Sylvain exhales, running a hand through her black mane to tease out the worst knots before he starts brushing it.

“It must be nice not to see the truth in front of you,” Sylvain says with an uncharacteristic hint of bitterness, his voice barely audible. He glances over to Ferdinand and resumes quickly, preventing him from contesting Sylvain’s comment on his naïvety. “I act more like a noble than you, von Aegir. My philandering behaviour, the broken promises better represent the _actual_ goings on behind courtly doors. What would you know about any of that, huh?”

Ferdinand spins, turning his face away from Sylvain both too quickly and not quickly enough.

“I know that smile.” Even from his position turned away, his face buried in RoRo’s mane while Ferdinand works to ease the knots out with a wide toothed metal comb, he can hear the grin in Sylvain’s voice. “Von Aegir, you sly dog! All that talk of virginity, religion and nobility and you go and let someone deflower you outside wedlock. Didn’t know you had it in you!”

Sylvain tuts. It’s meant in jest, but Ferdinand’s blood runs ice cold. What would his father say? Granted, that is less important with his upcoming plans to take over and right Duke Aegir’s corrupt and misguided policies, Ferdinand thinks, but would the people be willing to accept him as he is? He has a duty to marry and produce heirs. A duty to further the Aegir bloodline.

Ferdinand’s actions the previous night have consequences. The weight of these ramifications hit him so hard his fingers loosen around the metal comb and it falls to the floor. Startled, Rocinante sidesteps away from him and Ferdinand sways, unsure on his feet.

Sylvain is by him in seconds, bent over to look up into his eyes. A strong, firm grip encircles his arm. Ferdinand vaguely registers Sylvain shaking him gently, repeating words in a reassuring voice. He lets go of the dread and the worry gnawing at his insides for long enough to focus on Sylvain’s words.

“Hey Ferdie, it’s okay. You’re okay. It’s okay, you’re okay buddy. Nothing’s wrong, I won’t tell anyone. I won’t tell. Your secrets are safe with me, m’kay? You know I can keep ‘em.” Sylvain winks, a cheeky thing he usually reserves for his many conquests, but it does help lift Ferdinand’s mood. In their close proximity, Ferdinand can feel the warmth radiating off the Faergan, smell the mix of cinnamon, pine and bergamot that is uniquely him. He notices the scar that goes through Sylvain’s left eyebrow, and how his left eye is just a shade lighter than his right.

Ferdinand finds himself wondering how Sylvain got that scar, and the mean looking one he has seen on Sylvain’s back in the baths. He blinks, shaking his head, and Sylvain resumes using his horse voice on Ferdinand. He does not mind— he finds it reassuring, in fact, allowing the rich tone to unpick the knot of worry in his stomach. He recalls the steady beating of Hubert’s heart in his ears, the tight squeeze of his arms, and Ferdinand’s heart begins to settle. The weight in his chest lifts, and he finds himself able to take a deep, steady breath.

“I’ll keep your secrets, Ferdie. Better than I keep my own, okay? You have nothing to worry about.” Sylvain brings his free hand up to cup Ferdinand’s face and smiles up at him. It somehow looks different to the serial flirt’s usual offerings; Ferdinand cannot help but trust him.

“Thank—” His voice cuts out. He swallows, and tries again. “Thank you, Sylvain. I appreciate your candor in this matter, and your assistance.”

“It’s nothing, forget about it. It wouldn’t do for me to get a reputation as someone you can talk to. Or someone you can rely on.” Sylvain waves it off casually and releases him. Despite this, Ferdinand can’t help but feel that something has transpired between them.

“Naturally, if that is what you wish,” says Ferdinand, returning his attention back to Rocinante.

A squeal interrupts them, accompanied by an angry stomp.

“Oh, don’t _you_ go getting jealous on me Sienna! You _know_ you’re the only one for me, sweetheart. Rocinante means nothing to me! No offense,” Sylvain quickly tacks on.

Ferdinand’s mare ignores him. A sensible reaction, he thinks. Often the best course of action is to ignore everything Sylvain says. Except Ferdinand spends the rest of the time they groom their horses in silence, mulling over the redhead’s words. Nothing makes sense anymore. He longs to be in Hubert’s arms again, to listen to the sound of his breathing, be grounded in the now without worrying about everything else.

“Ferdinand? You riding?” Sylvain calls from the tack room. He glances up — Sienna is stood patiently ready to ride, with Zoltan attached to the saddle. RoRo is staring at him intently, her eyes questioning. Ferdinand realises he’s been brushing the same chunk of her mane over and over, lost in thought.

“Not this morning,” he replies. He needs to see Hubert. He is convinced everything will feel better, will make more sense, once he does. It has nothing to do with still feeling sore, he tells himself. “Are you taking Zoltan too?”

“I sure am!” Sylvain cheerily responds. “Sorry buddy, I know Felix doesn’t look after you as well as he should. He’s busy with swords, training and taking himself too seriously. But he does care, you hear? He does.” Sylvain’s voice is soft, in the way it only is when he talks about Felix, and it breaks slightly on the last words.

Witnessing the moment feels…intrusive. It sounds as if Sylvain is trying to reassure himself, rather than Zoltan, and Ferdinand’s heart aches for him. While their ideals and differing opinions on the nobility had put them at loggerheads once, early mornings running into each other in the stables had allowed them to form a friendship.

It was a friendship they kept confined to the stables, but Ferdinand cares deeply for his fellow equestrian. And he is sure the equestrian cares deeply for him, too. If he could do anything to patch the hurt he knows Sylvain feels, or to fill the hole in himself Sylvain plugs poorly with women and ale, Ferdinand would.

But he cannot, so instead he moves to weight down Sienna’s other stirrup as Sylvain swings into the saddle. He holds it in place while Sylvain positions it on the ball of his foot. He scratches at Sienna’s withers, then allows his hand to rest on Sylvain’s knee when he turns his face up to look at the Faerghan, who he finds looking down at him intently with a small smile.

“I am happy for you Ferdinand, and if you need long term help keeping your secret, you only have to ask, yeah?”

Ferdinand just nods, struck by the vision of Sylvain’s russet hair lit by the sunbeams filtering through the stable window. It catches his hair just so, reflecting a hundred different shades of red that dance about like flames when Sylvain moves.

“Von Aegir? You gonna answer? Think I lost you for a second there.”

“Erm — yes. If it is no inconvenience to you, I shall seek your assistance should I need it.”

“I suppose it was too much to hope that a good fuck would dislodge some of the proper from you, Ferdinand. I kid, I kid,” he chuckles, smiling as he meets Ferdinand’s eyes. “Have fun on today’s mission. Felix is spitting mad we have to sit about twiddling our thumbs on guard duty while you guys get to see all the action. Be safe.”

Sylvain knocks a fist under Ferdinand’s chin and nudges Sienna with his heels. She dutifully carries him off at a brisk walk, Zoltan in tow, before Ferdinand can think too much about the exchange.

His hand feels cool without Sylvain’s warm skin underneath it.

~~~

The Flame Emperor’s mask comes off and Ferdinand’s feet are pulled out from underneath him.

Edelgard has been working against them this whole time. She tried to have Claude and Dimitri assassinated, she was the reason poor Ashe had to kill his blasphemous adoptive father, she was behind the attempted theft of the Sword of the Creator, she was responsible for those terrible events at Remire village — even if those she worked alongside went rogue, as a leader it was her duty to keep them in line!

She gave them some nonsense story about hoping her fellow students would see the errors of the Church and choose to side with her in the upcoming war. Ferdinand had remained silent. Hours later, the angry red welts of his fingernails still indent his palms from how tightly he fisted them. His teeth ache from clenching his jaw.

The Flame Emperor had the audacity to make a remark about the Black Eagles and their fellow students being puppets manipulated by people who did not know what was best for them, who zealously interfered in affairs they had no business meddling in.

Ferdinand could not help but look at Hubert stood behind her, his face impassive, as she spoke. Edelgard’s lap dog, a puppet and puppet master both.

Had he just been another piece of their game, a knight to be taken off the chessboard of Fódlan?

The knowledge that Edelgard was the Adrestian Emperor shook him to the core. It was all too much. Everything was happening at once, he’d had no chance to process any of the information.

The Professor had an opportunity to run Edelgard through in penance for her actions. To save Fódlan from war. Foolishly they hesitated, allowing Hubert to warp Edelgard and Ferdinand’s heart away. After, the Black Eagles climbed out of the Holy Tomb in silence. Ferdinand dutifully put one unsteady foot in front of the other until the sweet fresh air hit his face, affording him some much needed clarity.

He shook with the force of his anger. The day had only gotten worse from there. By the time they surfaced, news of Hubert and Edelgard’s plots had reached the monastery.

Bernadetta — poor, sweet Bernadetta — screamed when she heard her father was under house arrest.

Hubert was now the Marquis Vestra, Minister of the Imperial Household. Rumor said he had assassinated his father himself. The details got more grisly each time he heard the story recounted, yet Ferdinand knew deep within the sickening roil of his stomach that none came close to the truth.

His own father had been stripped of power, his title as Prime Minister and was under house arrest. The day Ferdinand had longed to bring about himself was upon him, yet he had been robbed. Toppling his father’s corrupt regime was meant to be Ferdinand’s victory. It was _his_ accomplishment to achieve. Ferdinand had wanted to show the people of Aegir territory and the Adrestian Empire the true meaning of nobility. To lead by example.

To show Edelgard and Hubert and _everybody_ that he could be _better._

At the Professor’s insistence, everyone retired to their rooms to reflect on the day until dinner. It was their way of giving students the opportunity to leave if they wished. Ferdinand does not agree with it, however he respects the Professor’s decision to allow students to take the path of their own choosing.

On his walk back to the dormitories, he looks up in time to see Constance wave him a forlorn farewell from atop her dark steed, following Hapi as she rides through the monastery portcullis. Ferdinand hopes this isn’t goodbye. That the next time he sees Constance won’t be on the opposite side of a battlefield.

He knows it is. That it will be.

He desperately needs to think, to sort out the mess of his thoughts.

Edelgard is the Emperor. Hubert is Minister of the Imperial Household.

He is no longer Ferdinand von Aegir, future Prime Minister of Adrestia.

This is all so wrong.

Edelgard means to start a war — to start endless, avoidable suffering, and raise an army against the church. Ferdinand cannot allow her to do that. He cannot allow her to put the people of the Empire at risk, to rebel against the sacred teachings of Seiros and earn her divine punishment. To raise her axe against Sothis herself. He _must_ stand against Edelgard. How dare she commit such atrocities against the goddess! How _dare_ she incite a war that will hurt her people!

The righteous anger he feels tempers from boiling rage to a slow simmer when he opens his bedroom door to find himself facing a cloaked back he thought long gone. One he had become intimately acquainted with less than 24 hours earlier. He longs to reach out and trace the angry red marks he clawed into it during the throes of passion. Hubert had denied him the chance to heal the marks then, when the gesture was offered in compassion. Now, Ferdinand wants to erase all evidence that anything transpired between them. Or see Hubert’s soft, smiling face inches from him, reassuring Ferdinand this was all a terrible dream. Or claw at him again, dig his nails in deeper, make marks that would really scar.

With that thought, Ferdinand understands.

Hubert knew what was going to happen. He _wanted_ the marks to stay.

Anger burns within him again and he reaches for the dagger he keeps in his desk, dodging around armour haphazardly strewn everywhere. Ferdinand is silent, but somehow Hubert still knows he is there. He would expect nothing less of the man.

As Ferdinand’s hand closes around the weapon, Hubert’s face turns to look over his shoulder at the floor. It seems he cannot meet Ferdinand’s eye. “Put it down,” he commands. Instantly, Ferdinand finds himself obeying. Something within him is so desperate to earn the man’s approval, to earn murmured words of praise that Hubert had rewarded him with sparingly the previous night.

Then Ferdinand remembers why they are here. His hand tightens on the grip of the dagger again. Hubert sighs. “I do not wish to have to kill you Ferdinand, but I will if I must.”

The acidic bite of dark magic fills the air as purple light flickers around his fingers. Ferdinand knows if he tries to move on Hubert, he will be dead before he can even take a step.

It doesn’t stop him wanting to try.

Death might be preferable to deciphering the tangled web of emotions warring in his head and heart.

Hubert turns round to face Ferdinand properly. His eyes are hard, sharp. Ferdinand recalls how pretty they looked clouded by the haze of pleasure, and he cannot help the yearning he knows is clear on his face. It somehow feels like a smack in the face when Ferdinand realises the bags under Hubert’s eyes have lightened.

 _Why did you not tell me?_ He longs to ask. _Did you find me untrustworthy? Did you think I would abandon you both?_

Ferdinand considers his honest answers to his own questions. It is his duty as Prime Minister to guide Edelgard, to help steer her towards making the correct decisions. He might have steered her off this path. Or, if he had been privy to the full details, he may have been able to help her mitigate the dreadful fallout they were all suffering in the throes of. Truthfully, he does not know what he would have done.

Like he was robbed of the chance to depose his father, he has been robbed of the chance to know what he would have done if they had bothered to trust him.

He stares into Hubert’s eyes, silently begging the man to invite him to join Edelgard’s cause. It is not something Ferdinand can choose for himself; his religion, his pride, and his outrage at their actions will not allow it. But if Hubert convinced him…He could forgive himself for that.

He feels as if he is being torn in a thousand different directions, each more painful than the next.

Hubert remains stubbornly silent, studying him intently like he is looking for something.

Ferdinand has no idea what Hubert is trying to find written on his face. Sympathy? Empathy? Anger? Pain? Hurt? Betrayal? The murderous inclinations Hubert often emanates himself? He spies a hint of softness in Hubert’s face that disappears so quickly he is left wondering if he imagined it. He is almost sure Hubert made to reach out for his face, but it could have been a flourish to keep the dark magic on his fingers alive. He wishes with all of his being that Hubert would kiss him, ignoring the awful twisting in his gut that tells him it would probably be for the last time. Ferdinand notices that both of Hubert’s eyes are visible and cannot help the wistful sigh that escapes his lips.

 _Not like this,_ Ferdinand thinks.

After a few minutes, it becomes apparent Hubert has finished his search. Ferdinand is unsure if he found what he was looking for. Any opportunity to dwell on it is shattered when Hubert speaks.

“So it’s like that, then. Well, von Aegir, know I will take great pleasure in ensuring you suffer a most painful death when the time comes. I might finally know peace, not having to worry about tripping over you in your position nipping at Her Imperial Majesty’s heels.” Hubert scoffs. “You are unworthy to even step in her shadows. I shall miss your incessant yapping, I admit. It was always so easy to rile you up, I took immense pleasure from it. Huh,” he smiles evilly, a glint in his eyes. It makes Ferdinand sick. He hates it. He wants the heat back in those eyes, directed at him in pleasure only. _Goddess, when did he get so weak?_ “Maybe the better course when we win would be to keep you alive as Her Imperial Majesty’s _pet.”_

Hubert chuckles darkly, the tone he uses before unleashing a particularly devastating attack on a foe. It makes Ferdinand’s skin crawl to hear it directed at him, yet he still has the wherewithal to bristle and puff out his chest at the insinuation of being a _pet_ to these deplorable traitors. He breathes deeply to ward off the moisture threatening to gather in the corner of his eye.

“Hmmm, yes, you on your hands and knees, where you _belong._ It will be fun watching that defiance, that pride, extinguished from your eyes. Rest assured, I will train you well. Make sure you know what happens when you try to bite your betters, _dog._ Maybe I’ll turn you into the lap dog you’re so keen to accuse me of being. You’re so vapid you’d enjoy that wouldn’t you, von Aegir. To have your hair petted, and to be fussed, and to be praised when you’re good and punished when you’re not. Never mind that you are entirely unlovable. Even your own mother ran from you the first chance she got.”

The words are intended to hurt, but upon some introspection, Ferdinand realises they do nothing, for he does not yet believe them. There is something he must ask. The importance of it far outweighs anything else Hubert could say.

He has to know. Ferdinand cannot help himself. _Please Goddess, let him say yes. Let me not have given him everything for nothing._ “Last night…did that mean nothing to you?”

Ferdinand knows it did. They’d shared a connection. They had found each other, they fitted together so well, they had found common ground — a stage where they could push each other to be the best without the bickering that derailed their progress.

One look at the cruel smile on Hubert’s face tells Ferdinand he should not have asked the question, for he is sure to dislike the answer. He no longer wants to know, but Hubert does not grant him that mercy.

“I could have taken anyone, you were just the first warm body I found. Well, the second. I’d have taken the Faerghan, but I know where the Gautier whore has been. Far better a virginal thing like you to toy with, to use for my satisfaction.”

The silence that follows in the room is deafening.

Ferdinand expected Hubert to say something of that ilk about him. He had steeled himself to hear it. It still contributed to his anger, to the smoldering embers he was desperately trying to keep doused so they could have a rational conversation about this without lashing out as Hubert clearly was.

Hubert’s comments about Sylvain, however, ignite his fury. Rage pulses through his boiling veins. It overtakes Ferdinand. In three swift steps, he crosses the distance between them to bring the dagger—

…into the thin air where Hubert’s chest had once been.

He burns. Everything else is gone, replaced only with the need to rain the cleansing fires of the eternal flames on those who would dare stand against the church. Who would dare hurt the people of Fódlan and lead them astray from the true, righteous path. Who would dare to hurt him, says a quiet voice in Ferdinand’s head that he swiftly ignores.

Ferdinand leans against his desk, breathing deeply as he tries to get himself under control. To be so emotional will not help him in what he must do next. After a few minutes, he feels his heart take on a more regular rhythm. He pulls parchment out of one of his drawers. Uncorks the inkwell on the desktop, dips a quill into the blackness that hurts as it reminds him so much of the dark mage, and writes out everything contained within him until his heart bleeds out on the page, in places unreadable where salt rivers pour from his face and make the ink run.

Before it has a chance to dry, Ferdinand seals the essay he has written on the topic of his childhood, his house’s fall from grace, his feelings towards Edelgard and the complicated matter of one Hubert von Vestra. It does not matter if it smudges. The treatise is not one to be read, in any case.

Ferdinand conjures sparks of fire magic and watches the hot orange flames lick at the blackening paper as it curls and disintegrates into ash until nothing is left. With it, he tries to let his anger, his pain, his burgeoning-yet-trampled feelings be consumed until he is left with a level head.

It is mildly successful. He strides out of his room with his head held high and marches to the dining room to do what must be done.

~~~

Ferdinand is late to dinner. He’d registered the bells ringing while he wrote, but he had needed the time. He finds the doors to the dining hall shut.

All the better to make his grand entrance.

Ferdinand throws the doors open and takes three steps into the room, his head held high. The clamour of students chatting gave to quiet whispers that died away when he spoke.

“We have been betrayed,” Ferdinand begins passionately, his eyes blazing with the power one only possesses when they are so utterly convinced what they believe is just and right and true. “We have _all_ been betrayed, by one we were supposed to be able to trust. In her choice to incite a rebellion against the church, Edelgard von Hresvelg has revealed herself as a traitor and a tyrant, willing to spill the blood of her people and imprison those who stand in her way to seize power.” _Like my father did,_ Ferdinand thinks, willing his peers to see past his name.

He is the only man for this. While his heart begins to race, pumping hard, his palms remain dry. He feels like he was born to do this. In a way, he was.

“We cannot allow this to pass! As the future Prime Minister, it was my duty to guide her in matters such as these. Instead she shut me out, thinking herself above my guidance. In doing so, Edelgard overstepped her boundaries. Her actions, and those of her loathsome retainer, have revealed the necessity of my House’s position. Absolute power, without someone to challenge her and stay her hand, has driven Edelgard mad.”

“The Emperor stripped House Aegir of its position, yet I stand before you as the _only_ viable candidate to lead Adrestia out from under her oppressive rule. I can be the only one to tell you we must stand up for ourselves, and our people! I will lead the righteous charge of those Goddess fearing people who will stand against Emperor Edelgard Hresvelg’s heresy!” He pauses for a second to let the words sink in. They echo in the silence of the dining room.

He can feel all the eyes on the room on him, listening to his every word as he demonstrates his skill as an orator. They come naturally to him, lending him much needed conviction.

He can convince them. He can fix this. They will listen to him and they will _understand_ him and he will understand them in a way Edelgard never could.

Ferdinand dares to hope.

“She seeks to divide us all, for she knows we are weaker apart. She seeks to split families, to keep children from the wisdom of their parents. To pit parents against children, siblings against siblings, man against wife. But we will NOT let her!” Ferdinand exclaims fervently. At some point during his speech, Seteth and the Professor came to stand behind him. He was so lost in the moment he missed it, but their presence buoys him, reinvigorating his speech. He is supported. He does not need to look back to see if Seteth is smiling. He does not need the man’s approval at the moment, no matter how desperately he craves it.

He needs to convince his classmates.

“We will not let her, or her vicious lap dog _use_ the _good_ people of Fódlan for her nefarious purposes! We will not let this heretical tyrant rob us of the people who support us. We will stand, _united,_ against her and defeat the evil she seeks to allow purchase upon this land!” Murmurs ripple through the crowd at his words, and Ferdinand remembers that not everyone was privy to the knowledge of what happened in Remire. He takes a deep breath to control his emotions before he goes on, trying to suppress the way his body wants to shake with anger. It would be seen as a weakness. A true leader cannot be that emotional.

“Edelgard cast her lot in with those evil beings that corrupted the poor folk of Remire village for naught more than an experiment. A ‘fun’ game to demonstrate their power to us. To cause us to abandon our faith, abandon our Goddess at the time when we need her most. I will NOT bow to such tactics of terror! With my lance, with my spear, I will stand tall against her, and support all those who will join me.”

He pushes out his chest, stretching his spine to show all of his 175cm. He isn’t the tallest male here, not by a long shot, but he still has growing to do. They can grow together, mould the world to what they want it to be.“We can be free of the terrible future she plans for us, but we must stand against it, _together!_ Do not believe that those of you from the Kingdom or the Alliance will be free from her reach. Edelgard is ambitious to a fault. Von Vestra’s influence spans the entire continent. Once she has subdued and oppressed the people of Adrestia she was sworn to protect, she will set her sights on you as well. Edelgard is acting afoul, we have no choice but to strike her down!”

_I can protect you all, if you help me protect my people._

“Those of you who believe in her ideals, in her abhorrent methods, are free to leave and seek her out without repercussions. Some of our classmates already have. We will not stand in your way. But know you will meet your end at our hands when we end the war Edelgard started. We will defend our homes. We will defend our people. We will defend our religion, and with the Goddess on our side we cannot lose!”

 _Please don’t go,_ Ferdinand thinks as he surveys the room. He has already lost Constance and Hapi.

He refuses to think of the others he has lost, and the terrible position they have put him in.

Ferdinand’s chest heaves when he is finished, slightly breathless and light headed from the rush. He keeps his chin held high, a paragon of nobility and a shining example for the others to follow. He hopes. _Goddess, let that have been enough._ Ferdinand knows he’s asked a lot of her today, but this is the one he really needs. For her sake.

For all their sakes.

The spell he placed on the room still holds. Everyone is silent. He is not sure if that is a good or bad omen, so Ferdinand looks to his fellow Black Eagles for support. Linhardt and Caspar whisper to each other. Petra looks lost in thought. Dorothea appears stunned by his speech. Bernie, sweet Bernie, is the bravest of them all. She stands with a squeak and runs to his side.

“I-I-I-Ican’tletyoudothisalone. Y-you helped Bernie when I had the problem with the thing. I’ll follow you to the end. Justdon’tletthemkillmeplease!” She trips over the words in her hurry to say them, her face panicked and crimson from the effort.

“May I touch you Bernadetta?” Ferdinand asks, his voice soft. She squeaks in alarm, jumping away from him but he remains still, eyes soft and hands by his side while he waits for permission.

“O-o-o-okay!? Bernie can do this,” says Bernadetta, more to herself than Ferdinand.

He brings his hands up to cup her face, giving her a reassuring smile. “Bernie _can_ do this.” His hands fall to rub her shoulders reassuringly. “You are brave, and you are strong, and I would _die_ before I let them hurt you.”

“Really!? You-you-you’d die for Bernie?”

Ferdinand nods, ignoring the hurt her disbelief causes him. He will right the wrongs their parents and this world inflicted upon them, _after_ he wins the war they have been thrust into.

“I would die for the Fódlan we must pry from Edelgard’s grip and forge in our own likeness under the guidance of the Goddess. I would die to protect any of you, or your families—” he looks to Ashe for impact, mindful of the archer’s siblings and the father he has lost— “from the harm that would befall them should she rule. I will do my utmost to ensure as many of us as possible survive to see the new dawn.”

“WE’RE IN!!!” Caspar shouts from across the room. Ferdinand beams at his, acknowledging the pledge with a nod. “It’s up to us to stop her — we have a war on our hands.”

“As long as I don’t have to physically stand next to you right now, that’s a deal breaker,” Linhardt yawns, stretching before lying his head back on the table to resume his nap.

Petra stands and bows at him, a fist held over her heart. “I will be joining you, Ferdinand. We must be saving the peoples. Edelgard’s doings are wrong, it is our duty to make everything right.”

He looks to the one remaining Black Eagle to declare her allegiance. Dorothea looks torn. Ferdinand takes the opportunity to show that unlike Edelgard and Hubert, he is merciful.

“My beautiful Dorothea. You do not need to answer now if you need more time to consider your position. This is an important decision. I wish you to make the right one for yourself, for you shall have to be able to live with it.”

He feels a squeeze on his shoulder and turns to see one of the Professor’s rare smiles. The day has been such a mix of emotions, he throws the pride and happiness of earning such an exquisite prize onto the pile of things he will need to unpack later.

Students and staff alike talk in hushed tones again. Friends and family look to each other as they discuss which side they will pick. He spies the shocked look on the head cook’s face when the scullery maid finishes their conversation. He cannot hear what they say, but the head cook nods in his direction, and the maid gives him a small, reassuring smile.

“I’m not so sure one lance can support all the people you’re gonna be holding up, von Aegir. You’ll need another one, and you have mine,” Sylvain says, standing up from the table. Felix tries to pull him back down, but Sylvain looks to Ingrid and Dimitri for their responses first.

Dimitri is still feral over Edelgard’s reveal. Ferdinand is convinced he has snapped — he is not sure the prince has heard anything that has happened since.

Ingrid looks firmly at her plate, sneaking glances at Dimitri. “I’ll follow his highness,” she says softly. “This is one mess you need to get yourself out of, Sylvain.”

Felix seethes, spitting barbed whispers in a heated discussion between him and Sylvain. Ferdinand keeps his face resolute. It would be awful to his cause if he lost someone who had only just agreed to sign up. Sylvain and Felix are great fighters, they would be a boon to his army.

Ferdinand knows from the lost look on Sylvain’s face that Felix standing is not the result he wants. “This isn’t much of a choice. I won’t follow you or the boar. If Edelgard gives me the chance to walk my own path, I’ll take it. I’ll make you taste the cool steel of my blade.” He turns to stare into Sylvain’s eyes as he adds, “Don’t expect special treatment. If I see you on that battlefield, I’ll kill you myself.”

Sylvain, to his credit, just nods and wishes Felix a safe journey. The prickly swordsman walks off, presumably to leave, and Ferdinand spies Claude talking in a group with the Golden Deers. Claude pays particular attention to Marianne, and for once does not seem at odds with Lorenz. Yuri is talking to Byleth, their face blank as ever, but Ferdinand can guess at his choice from the way Yuri shakes his head. He is close enough to make out snippets of _“not our war”_ and _“we have a responsibility to keep Abyss safe.”_ While not having Yuri as an ally is a blow, Ferdinand is relieved to know the schemer will not be following Constance and Hapi to Edelgard’s camp.

When the Deer huddle breaks, Lorenz makes a beeline for his side. Despite being sure his childhood friend would join him, confirmation of Lorenz’s presence by his side is a weight off his shoulders. “I am of course joining your side, my friend, and it is my noble duty to represent the interests of the Alliance under your banner.”

Ferdinand claps him on the shoulder. “I am glad you are joining us, friend.”

“As am I,” a meek voice calls from behind him. Marianne stands there, head down, but present all the same. “If you are doing this for the Goddess, then I will be by your side.”

“Forgive me, Emile,” Mercedes says, making the sign of the Goddess before standing herself. “Someone has to look after you all. It will be my pleasure to help you through this.”

“Ladies, it is most noble of you to offer your assistance. I accept it gratefully, you have my wholehearted thanks,” Ferdinand assures them.

“Ferdinand, you have done enough,” Seteth interrupts. “More than we could reasonably have asked for. You are an inspiration, and we will talk more tomorrow of appointing your retainer, the practicalities of war and your new class — Knight Errant. I will have the Professor make the necessary arrangements for you,” Seteth smiles at him. “Students, we will not ask the rest of you to decide your allegiances now. Sleep on it, but we must know by the morrow. To those of you who choose to leave us, I wish you the best. You will need it.”

~~

After the meal, Ferdinand attempts to retire to his room.

He stands outside his door, hands shaking, unable to bring himself to open it.

Ferdinand doesn’t know what he wants to find inside.

While it is closed, there is a chance he can open it to find Hubert sitting on his bed, waiting to beg his forgiveness. The alternative — his former lover waiting to assassinate him — has also crossed his mind. _His former lover,_ he thinks, breath hitching. What Ferdinand _does_ know, is that regardless of whether Hubert is physically in his room, echoes of him will be. Ferdinand’s sheets will still smell of lavender. He hadn’t had a chance to do anything with the cloth and bowl of water Hubert used to clean him up after. The wall Hubert pushed him against will still be there.

Tears well up in Ferdinand’s eyes. Now the demands of a leader are off his shoulders for the night, all the things he needs to feel overwhelm him. The strongest of them all is the raw ache in his chest unlike anything he has ever felt. Sometimes it is sharp, painful. It hurts so much he forgets how to breathe. It demands everything of him, and Ferdinand gives himself to it willingly. The dull ache that constricts his chest is worse, because it allows him to keep going through the pain when all he wants to do is stop and let it consume him.

Failure and death are not luxuries Ferdinand von Aegir can afford, so he pushes them aside and raises his hands to push his door open. His throat closes, tightening painfully as it fills with a cloying substance he has to keep swallowing down.

Ferdinand is used to the world being a dazzling display of colours, light dancing off surfaces in such exquisite beauty he cannot help but need to capture it in lines of a sonnet or villanelle. The greyscale he sees before him holds no happiness.

Maybe that is for the best. War is not meant to be a joyous time, and this…emptiness he feels inside would help protect him from the further losses that must yet come.

His hands are blurry. Ferdinand does not know if it is because of the wetness threatening to escape from his eyes or because of the tremors. He reaches for the door, but something stops him again.

He is _Ferdinand von Aegir,_ Knight Errant, the Noblest of Nobles, and he _can_ open a _fucking door._

He’s moving. Being pushed to the side and forwards, towards another room. He can feel the warmth of a hand on his hip, another on his shoulder. His legs move without instruction, following the weight of the one who guides him.

The room he ends up in has a blue carpet. Ferdinand can make that much out. It’s immaculately tidy, but smells faintly of horse.

Horse is better than lavender.

The hands push him gently down onto the bed, then pull off his shoes. Ferdinand continues to stare forwards at the same place, his eyes unseeing. The tears in them threaten to fall, but he still cannot loose them to ease the pressure in his chest.

He is maneuvered onto the bed proper and immediately rolls over to the side, turning to face the wall. He hears the rustling of fabric behind him as the person who helped him here changes into their sleepwear. Ferdinand feels the bed dip under their considerable weight as they join him, careful to give him space.

They exhale in a deep sigh laden with sadness. He recognises it from early morning rides. He can smell the cinnamon, pine and bergamot.

Finally, tears spill unbidden from his eyes. He tries to choke back the quiet sobs that fall from his mouth but from the way Sylvain stiffens beside him in the bed, Ferdinand knows he has noticed.

Embarrassed, angry and completely devastated, Ferdinand allows himself to let go of his pride. It has no place in the emptiness that aches inside him at present.

“Hold me?” He rasps, voice raw from the day’s events.

For the longest second he has ever experienced — longer still than the moment Hubert said those awful things to him — nothing happens. Then a wrist gently lifts his head as an arm comes under his neck, a hand reaching to entwine their fingers. The warm, reassuring weight of Sylvain’s arm rests over his hip and helps calm the shakes that wrack his body as he cries.

He dimly realises that the back of his neck, where Sylvain has buried his face, is also wet.

Tomorrow, they will know which side everyone has chosen. Tomorrow, traitors must be officially declared. Battle plans must be drawn up. Funds must be secured. Strategies must be made. Training regimes must be devised. Crimes must be answered for.

Emotions must be put aside, for the good of the people they must protect from Edelgard’s tyranny.

For tonight, though, they curl up in each other’s arms and allow themselves to grieve the deaths of the men they will one day have to kill, destroying their hearts alongside them.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll go to jail for Ferdie crimes now. And finish Silver Snow so I can write more of this...  
> If it's any consolation I cried a lot writing this but hey _shrugs_
> 
> Healing Ferdibert [fluff](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25773742)  
> Healing Ferdievain [fluff](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29088867)  
> Cute picture of a happy [Ferdinand](https://twitter.com/drink_glowstick/status/1356463152834121729?s=20)
> 
> I thrive off feedback (including constructive!) so feel free to leave a comment or kudos. Comments make my day.  
> You can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Elasmosaurus11)
> 
> We discussed retainers a bit at the brainstorming phase but didn't set anything in stone, so that will come later in anything else I do with this AU. Also any finalisations of what I call "the divorce proceedings" where characters choose a side.


End file.
